


Metamorphosis

by scarletrebel



Series: Kindred Light [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: Selfishly, Rook thinks to himself that he doesn’t need this – not on top of starting back in the Crucible, not on top of trying to prove to Cayde and Shaxx and Saladin that he’s fine. That he’s learned his lesson, that he can be better. They may have gently pushed him here, but he still feels like he has to prove something.





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> So a few weeks before Destiny 2 came out, myself, mrpinstripesuit and nattiebug14 were having conversations about our characters meeting, and what happened to them during the first Destiny's timeline. Rook has a backstory (thats always torn my heart out) that i've always wanted to explore, and when Pin mentioned him confessing to Avia about it right before Oryx arrived I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write about these two. My OTP tbh. 
> 
> This is set before Spoken Word, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Eve finds him on top of a Vex Citadel. She’d had to step, very carefully, over a lot of Goblins. Harpys, Minotaurs, shredded into pieces from shotgun blasts, knifed deep and swift, but messy. Electricity course through all of them, making their metal limbs twitch and spasm.

She grants Rook the good grace of not being worried that any of them aren’t dead.

He’s sat, hugging his knees. Trembling against the intricate metal work that makes up the spire at the top.

She has to stop and take him in. He hasn’t looked up, hasn’t noticed her so she looks at his dishevelled appearance, messy shoulder length hair, busted up armour, bruised face. He looks so young. She’s seen them, the teens, she thinks they call them. In the city they run around and cause trouble, not quite fully human, but not quite the beginning. An awkward middle. A sad middle, in Rooks case.

He sniffs, lifts his head to wipe his nose, catches her feet and looks up. If he hadn’t been already, she thinks he may start crying.

“Please,” he gets out. “Please don’t be mad.”

Her walk to him is silent. She crouches down, pulling her helmet off and placing it by her side.

“Rook,” she starts, a breath if she had lungs. His lip trembles.

“I didn’t m-mean,” he hiccups, screws his face up. “I should’ve listened to you I shouldn’t have g-gotten involved with–” he breaks off into a sob, but she’s patient. “They m-made it s-seem so easy like it was n-nothing but I shouldn’t have listened to them Eve I’m so–”

“Shh,” she lifts her hand to his face, caresses it, and wipes his cheek. She waits for him to calm, until his sobs and tears lessen, before she speaks again. “You’re going to have a lot of apologising to do, Rook. But not to me. Not to me, Rook.”

She puts her hand behind his neck, falls onto her knees and pulls him into her chest.

Eve looks up at the sky of Venus, the wind and the clouds and envies them. Rook sits below, a stone in the river whilst everything grows and changes around him much faster than he ever will.

But he will. This, Eve knows.

* * *

Grier spends so much time with Eris nowadays, even Zavala has started to take notice.

Rook thought nothing of it at first. Grier’s speaking to Eris, what else is new? It wasn’t until Eve mentioned her concern that he started to look closer; started to see the way they were speaking, more like whispering, to each other. Shaking their heads with worry etched into their features. Grier never looks worried, his research into the Hive becoming fevered. And if Zavala is taking an interest in what he and Eris are looking into, it can’t be good.

It’s freaking Rook out.

Not that his Titan team mate is helping matters, either. Somethings coming, she keeps saying to him. Her meetings with Zavala are becoming more frequent, the whole reason their worry about Grier started to resurface, and she’s convinced that the Light is dimming. She’s not training younger Guardians as much as she used to, her attention drawn between two points.

Selfishly, Rook thinks to himself that he doesn’t need this – not on top of starting back in the Crucible, not on top of trying to prove to Cayde and Shaxx and Saladin that he’s fine. That he’s learned his lesson, that he can be better. They may have gently pushed him here, but he still feels like he has to prove something.

“Rook, you’re tenser than a kinderguardian during a heavy-ammo round. What’s up?”

Well. There’s that reason, too.

They’re waiting for Guardians to trickle in from orbit, Iron Banner in full swing with Clash as the game. They’ve been fighting for a couple of hours, just the two of them. Rook’s not a fan of this map for Clash; Firebase Delphi is too large and unorganised to coordinate attacks properly.

“Nothing, sugar.” He replies, reloading his full clip of hand canon ammo.

Avia regards the First Curse, and then him, very slowly.

“You’re an awful liar,” she says, sidling up to him as a Hunter and Titan duo materialise behind them.

“Good thing we aren’t an item then, I’d never get away with anything.”

She laughs, a breath of anticipation. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Two Warlocks materialise then, eagerly discussing strategy as the timer begins to countdown.

“You heard from Grier lately?” Avia asks.

Rook bristles. “You haven’t?”

“He’s been a little distant. Figured I’d leave him to it for a while but–”

“So you’re not keeping an eye on him?” Rooks voice tilts slightly and Avia swings her head at him sharply.

“Of course I am,” she says, all edges. “Just wondering, is all.”

They lapse into silence as the counter ticks down, and Rooks stomach twists and turns.

“Didn’t mean to snap.” He mumbles, almost hearing Avia’s responding smile under her helmet.

“I’ll let you get away with it.”

Shaxx spurs them into action, and the two of them go on less chatty than their previous matches. Rook can’t stop thinking, he knows his performance will suffer for it but his mind drifts to his fireteam. So much is happening, reminding him all too well of what happened when Crota was killed. Grier’s constant missions to the Moon; Eve’s endless worrying, going for days on end looking for the Warlock only to have him return to them on the precipice of something terrible. It’s too much.

He eats a sticky grenade and groans languidly when his Ghost revives him.

“You do remember that we need to win this one to rank up, right?” Avia reminds him as he gets moving again, spotting an enemy Titan run into the building and up the ramp, not seeing Rooks swift approach. He gets the first shotgun blow easy, and then another as they turn and a panic of bullets knocks his shield down. He finishes them off with a messy stab of his knife to the chest.

“Sorry, sugar.”

Avia is quiet on the other end. A quiet hum is all he hears, and they return to silence. His chest tightens, _smooth going, Rook._

The match ends in a victory, but only just. Avia defends Rook from a flanking Nova Bomb, and they move together into the main chamber, Rook calling the two enemy Guardians running towards them from the adjacent corridor. Avia summons her Golden Gun and earns the team a double kill in the last ten seconds. Rook lets out a sigh when the match ends, another couple of Guardians who had moved up to help their teammates stop and groan.

“To Saladin?” Avia asks, grin in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rook breathes, and then he hears them.

“Figures we’d lose to a _Guardian Killer_.”

Avia’s head rears around, Rooks heart sinking to his feet just as they’re all booted to orbit.

The journey back to the Tower is painfully silent. Rook wants to say something, to explain to Avia – but just the thought makes him sick. Twists and turns his stomach to no ends. It’s been this long of them doing… Whatever it is they’re doing. Regardless of the flirting, they’ve been friends for long enough. Even Eden and Scarlet know about his past. At least, he’s sure they do. In passing, at the most. How could he forget, bitterly, being the talk of the Tower.

Guardian killer. He’s heard worse, behind his back, to his face. Traitor, maniac, heartless. A name. An infamous name thrown in his face, one that makes his want to scream. Even if he hasn’t heard it in a while, it’s always there, dancing in the back of his mind.

_Guardian killer. You know who else killed Guardians in the Crucible?_

Oh, Light Above, what if Avia already knows?

They land in the Tower and make their way to Saladin, the cool air of night doing nothing to calm the storm growing in Rook’s chest. Every step and he wishes the floor would just swallow him up. Avia’s presence is like lead next to him, and he chances a look at her face; contorted in annoyance. Oh. _Travelers shadow_.

Saladin welcomes them back, and congratulates them on reaching the highest rank in the Iron Banner.

“With three days to spare,” he notes, looking at Rook. “Impressive.”

It’s the affirmation Rook needs to feel a little bit better. Even so, he’s sure Saladin has noticed his mood. The Iron Lord places crosses his arms as his Ghost gives the Guardians their spoils.

“Oh, can I just ask?” Avia says, waiting for the Iron Lords curt nod. “Should I report Guardians in the Crucible to you when it’s Iron Banner, or Shaxx still?”

Rooks face turns sour. Saladin, as quiet as ever, turns to the Awoken. “That depends on the situation. Do you have something to report?”

Avia looks at Rook, twists her face in thought. Rook wonders if he could fling himself off of the balcony before this conversation begins. It’s unlikely; he doesn’t have his bones of Aeo on.

“Yeah, two Warlocks called me a ‘Guardian killer’ when our last match ended,” Avia says. “I don’t really care all that much, but it’s a little harsh don’t you think?”

It’s almost as if Rook goes numb.

Saladin turns to him, and Rook doesn’t know if not seeing his face is a blessing or a curse right now.

“Rook heard it too, he was right behind me.” She adds, and that’s when Rook loses the staring contest.

“I’ll take note of the incident,” Saladin gives Avia his attention. “Warlocks, you said?”

“Yeah, well, one of them. Like I said, I don’t care, but it’s uncalled for. It’s just a game – no offence.”

Saladin nods slowly, just as Avia’s Ghost materialises at her shoulder.

“Grier is hailing you.”

“Oh, speak of the little devil.” Avia smiles, blinding. It cheers Rook up a bit when he looks at her again.

She walks away to take the call, leaving Rook and Saladin alone. The Iron Lord speaks first.

“You’ve been doing well, Rook.”

“Heh, yeah, well. Helps to have people to encourage you.”

A terse silence.

“You know, this wouldn’t be as awkward if you weren’t wearing a helmet. I might actually be able to see whether or not you’re being genuine.”

Saladin chuckles, his big shoulders rolling. He steps forward and clasps Rook’s shoulder.

“You’d better hope your _companion_ isn’t as astute when it comes to reading faces, Rook.”

He blushes down to his neck and groans, putting his head in his hands.

“Is it that obvious?” He mumbles. The Iron Lord laughs again, putting his hands back on his hips.

“I’ve been around long enough to recognise the face of a love-sick fool, Hunter.”

“Okay, well, fool is a bit too far, don’t you think?” Rook looks over at Avia, who’s speaking rapidly, her face concentrated. “I mean. Look at her. Who wouldn’t be?” He adds softly.

The Iron Lord takes a deep breath. “I sense trepidation in you, Rook. The same kind from before Cayde asked you to rejoin the ranks of the Crucible. And yet, you’ve grown in confidence and strength these past months. It’s as if you never even left. I have no doubt what must be plaguing your mind.”

Rook takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a second.

“Guardian killer,” he says, softly. And then laughs. “It wasn’t so bad at the beginning, but now that people know I’m competing again, I. I – I don’t know. I’m used to it, Guardians… They have a right to be afraid of me, because of what I did. I don’t blame anyone, honestly. I guess I just. I guess I just wanted the chance to tell–”

“Grier? Grier!”

Avia’s voice is high and panicky, snapping Saladin and Rook out of their talk. Rook moves immediately, meeting Avia halfway as she stomps over to him.

“What’s wrong, sugar?”

“Grier, he’s – I swear on the Speakers Mask he’s as good as dead when I get my hands on him–”

“Woah, woah, sweetheart, hey,” Rook places his hands on Avia’s shoulders. Her lip has started to tremble. “Where is he?”

“The Hellmouth, where else.”

“Of course,” Rook sighs, his eyebrows knitting together.

“He was prattling on about,” – she spits the words – “ _worm gods,_ and hearing a message from another realm, I, I don’t know what he’s after but he’s gone down into the pit, Rook.”

If Avia feels Rook’s hands tense up on her shoulders, she doesn’t say anything.

“Alone?”

“He’s in the Abyss right now, his Ghost cut out–”

“Well, wait, why did he even call you?”

“He wanted my help! Wanted me to come and jump into Crota’s realm with him!”

“Travelers Light, Avia.” Rook breathes. “And let me guess, he got annoyed when you said no and jumped in anyway?”

Rook removes his hands from Avia, who summons her Ghost. “You guessed it.”

She’s taking them to orbit, and he should just leave it he knows. But his mind is static, Guardian killer and Grier jumping into the Dark and Hive clawing their way to him, screaming, screaming Guardian killer, killer, killer—

“He wouldn’t even be there if someone was keeping an eye on him.”

Avia whips her head at him, blue eyes sharp and piercing. He’s too numb to feel them.

“Excuse me?”

“If someone had just gone with him to the Moon – we all know what he gets like, he shouldn’t be alone there.”

She scoffs, indignant. “He’s a Guardian, Rook, not a child.”

“That’s – yeah, but. What if something happens to him now? This is Grier we’re talking about, you don’t know him like I do Avia, dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen to him–”

“Rook.” Her voice is tilted, questioning. “He’ll be okay. We will _drag_ him out of the Hellmouth if we have to.”

This is one of the things he likes so much about her, and under any other circumstances, he’d let her know. But she sounds like Ikora; like Eve, after Grier left for the Moon the first time. So Rook resigns himself, the tension between them thick and clinging.

He remembers when Crota died. He remembers Grier disappearing as if the Warlock was in mourning. He remembers Grier coming back, skittish and fragile, muttering about ascendant realms and Hive hierarchies. He remembers looking at Grier and seeing a mirror. Guardian killer.

He remembers isolating himself, feeling like a thousand eyes were on him whenever he stepped foot in the Tower. He remembers the names and the _guilt._

And yet. Rook still hasn’t changed. He’s a different Guardian, but. He’s not so sure he’s a different man.

* * *

It doesn’t take them long to figure out how to get into Crota’s realm, after trying to hail Grier only to find no response. They take the plunge, jumping into the keyhole between worlds, finding themselves in the Abyss. They don’t say a word to each other as they navigate the Darkness, running through dead Thrall and dim solar light that litters the way.

“It’s much easier to track Grier down here,” Avia’s Ghost tells them. “He’s not far. There’s a bridge up ahead into Crota’s throne world, his signature is still there.”

“How did he make it through all by himself?” Rook asks, small. His own Ghost answers, whirling its shell.

“Crota’s essence still endures, but, it’s barely enough to keep these Thrall sated. I don’t think Grier had a hard time getting through.”

“Which means we won’t have a hard time getting out?” Avia follows up, leaping over a pit in the floor. Rook follows close behind.

“It depends on how far he is when we catch up,” The Ghost adds as they kick up rotting dust, curving around scarred and sharp plinths, softly glowing red. “If he gets all the way to the Oversoul Throne, transmatting is only going to be more difficult.”

“Not to mention,” Rook’s Ghost adds. “Just because the Thrall are struggling, doesn’t mean there won’t be any Hive to surprise us. They like to do that.”

“Travelers Shadow,” Avia mutters. “Should’ve seen this coming.”

“What?” Rook asks. They begin to climb a hill, Rook’s legs protesting at the sharp angle.

“Oh, he’s been going on about scouting Crota’s realm for a while now, something Eve mentioned to him I think–”

“Woah, _wait_.”

They break the hill, and Rook stops. They’re suddenly bathed in a dim light; a massive doorway lies across a plated bridge and filters in a faint glow.

“What’s wrong?” Avia asks, coming to a halt in front of him and whipping around. She’s doing that thing where she steps from foot to foot, eager to go – scared, maybe. Knowing Grier, they’re on a time limit.

He stands there, as if his feet sink into the ground, knees wanting to go with the feeling but he makes them stand despite the shake. He doesn’t know if she notices, can’t seem to care if she does, and speaks rapidly.

“What did Eve say to him?”

“I don’t – I don’t know, Rook, we really don’t have time for–”

“Just tell me, Avia, please.”

His voice catches in his throat, shoulders sagging as she takes him in. She stops then, her hurried actions halting slowly. Her hand comes up onto his shoulder, feather light, a comfort.

“I don’t know Rook. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

He leans into her, just a little bit. He lets out a breath, his lungs declutching with a sting.

“Look,” she continues. “We can ask Eve and Grier about whatever the hell is going on when we get out of here, but we need to find him first.”

His head drops a little bit to look at her feet, dirty with Moon dust and scuffed. Words escape him. Light above, where would he even start? He doesn’t know if she understands, if she’s ever been exposed to the risk, or just the fear, of corruption. Of hurting innocent people. She deserves to know about him, he needs – needs to give her an out. She already has Grier to deal with, she shouldn’t have to deal with him too.

A strong hand under the chin of his helmet forces his gaze up.

“Don’t you dare give up on me here, lover boy.”

A small laugh escapes him, leaking from his chest. He moves his hand over hers and retracts it gently.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Their hands linger for longer than needs be. Avia turns first, walking towards the bridge.

“I promise you, we’ll get some answers.”

Rook decides that she deserves just that.

Their walk turns into a run, over the bridge and on into the light. It blinds them, slowly overtaking their vision as they get further, Rook’s chest twists and turns.

They push through until they hear the yell of a Warlock.

The light subsides and they blink away the sudden atmosphere. Rook looks down and sees a massive stair case, encased in Hive bone and sharp looking, two plinths breathe Hive energy, monuments to their dark magic. Across a chasm lies a similar area, but Rook’s eyes don’t make it that far.

Grier barely misses the Knights blade, jumping into the air but stumbling, turning midway to land awkwardly on one foot. He runs away from the creature, who swings and roars when it lands short once again.

But this Knight is – different, Rook realises. Fire creeps up through its skin, as though consuming its insides, breaking apart the molten skin atop. A fiery crown extends from its forehead, three eyes are orange and bright, blazing.

 _Oh, Grier_ , he thinks.

Avia wastes no such time, jumping and summoning her Golden Gun. As the loud _crack!_ whips the air, Grier looks up, suffering another hit from the Knight who sends him tumbling to his knees. Avia descends bathed in solar Light, squaring up to take her shots with deadly determination.

Rook moves then; clutching his shotgun and jumping over to Grier as the Knight focuses on Avia. He watches one, then two Golden Gun shots hit the Hive monster square in the face. Rook swears he hears the thing _laugh_ when the third shot leaves it still standing.

“What in the name of the Traveler have you annoyed this time, Grier?!” Avia growls.

Rook reaches Grier as the Warlock pivots on crouched legs.

“It’s a swordbearer!”

“Rhetorical question, buddy.” Rook groans, crouching.

Grier mutters a soft oh as Rook looks him over. He seems okay, burnt armour and scuffed knees are more than normal for Grier. Rook doesn’t really know what he’s looking for, quite naively he suppose’s he’s looking for any outward signs of… Corruption. Just short of the pulse rifle in Grier’s hands, the skull on the front almost staring at him, he supposes Grier’s okay in that department. For now – bitterly, he thinks, the signs aren’t always that clear.

Satisfied that there’s no impending Darkness or Hive mumbo-jumbo peeling off of his Warlock friend, Rook looks back and watches the swordbearer advance on Avia, who’s reloading her shotgun rapidly.

“How do we kill it?” Rook grits out.

“Same as any Hive,” Grier breathes. “Just. Well. It might take a while. This one’s powerful.”

“Right then,” Rook says, standing and unclipping the First Curse from its holster.

Avia’s shotgun rings out a cacophony of shots, her finger in a death grip around the trigger. It staggers the swordbearer long enough for Rook to pinpoint its head and take one, two, three deadly shots, reload to be sure and then run again. The Knight swivels to see him, giving Avia time to disengage. Rook jumps up and over, taking a hit from the Hive blade and rolling once he lands to soften the blow.

Looking over his shoulder, the Knight flourishes its sword and stalks its way over slowly, head bowed down as Avia tries to flank it. It senses her and swings around, picoting its body, giving Rook chance to chuck a grenade at its feet, a ball of arc energy pulses and latches onto the monstrous form, who shrieks and turns back to Rook. The Hunter stands his ground and shoots rapidly, the First Curse is heavier in his hand than normal.

Avia screams at Rook to move, but the Knight staggers on the fourth shot that lands between its eyes. A figure zooms around the side of it then, machine gun in hand. Warlock robes dance dangerously close to the Hive monster before unloading a round of bullets into its face.

 There’s a moment, when the clip runs out. Long enough for Grier to breathe, for Avia to start moving, trying to re-engage. Rook doesn’t move.

Something runs up his veins, then. Fire, maybe. No, static. It pulls a grin from his lips and as soon as his face stretches it falls, his head dizzy and the screams of other Guardians ring out as clear as day, as if it happened yesterday. He – he can’t breathe, all of a sudden. The First Curse shakes in his hand until he grips it, vicelike, shutting everything out.

The Knight takes it as an advantage; smacking Grier with its sword. The Warlock goes flying once again, landing curled in a ball. Avia yells and her shotgun rings out once more, calling the Knights attention.

Rook takes the static in his veins, pushes all of his thoughts and energy from his chest into his hand, and summons his Arc Blade.

The blade strikes like lightning in his hand, arc energy tunnelling from where he holds it. Along his arm and across his body in a flash, cracking, consuming. He lets it propel his legs forward, running low until he reaches the Knights body.

The first slash arcs up the monsters back, shooting electricity through the cracks in its body. It cries in pain, but Rook attacks again, rapidly, wildly, pushing against the monster as it throws itself around wildly, trying to deal with the torrent of attacks. The force of each swipe of his blade reverberates back through Rooks body, shaking his bones, rattling his head. He almost doesn’t notice when the creature disappears with an agonising cry, leaving only sparks of arc energy in this world.

This is the part Rook hates. His blade disappears, like ripping off an extra limb it leaves him empty and buzzing. That raw, dull ache in his head swells into a symphony of pain. He doesn’t let it show.

“Uh,” Grier speaks, and Rook can barely hear them. The shuffling of Warlock feet, Avia huffing. “Hey guys.”

“Hey?” Avia snaps. Rapid feet, Grier backing up. “ _Hey?!_ ”

“Oh! Avia! Wait pleasedontkillme–”

“Only if you can give me one good reason not to toss you over this cliff right now!”

Rook keeps his head down, clenching his fists. He kind of wishes Avia was being serious; the thought ripples through him and he lurches.

“I can explain! I heard a message!”

“ _Grier!_ ”

“Avia, just listen!” Grier cries. “Crota died so long ago, there shouldn’t even be Thrall down here, but they’re still enduring! And then I heard chatter, Hive speaking to each other! I had to investigate!”

Avia huffs, stills. Rook turns around, tries his hardest to calm himself.

“What were you thinking hopping down here without a fireteam, Grier? That swordbearer thing could’ve killed you!”

Grier mumbles. “I had it under control.”

“Hah,” Rook says, dry. “No you didn’t, buddy.”

“Well, you wouldn’t come with me! And yeah, I admit I was struggling but there’s definitely something happening down here – whispers, messages, Hive talking to each other across the stars and universes!”

Avia casts a glance over at Rook, her chest rising and falling slowly. Her hands are on her hips; something he would tease her for under any other circumstance.

“Is it dangerous?” She asks. “Wait, no, don’t answer that. I mean, is it…”

“Important?” Rook provides.

Avia scoffs. Rook watches Grier take a step back, his shoulders fall.

“Yes!” He cries again, indignant. “Something has the Hive rattled, and yeah, I shouldn’t have come down here by myself but I had to! No one else would! No one else is listening to me, or Eris, and when whatever comes does we won’t be prepared for it!”

“Rook,” Avia says softly. “He has a point.” Rook laughs bitterly and Avia holds up her hands in mock surrender.

“He still,” she casts a glance at Grier, who cowers, “shouldn’t have come down here by himself, but. He has a point.”

Rook walks closer. “So, this what you and Eve have been discussing lately?”

Grier is as animated as they come; his head moves with the familiar blinks of confusion.

“What? No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Grier.”

Avia laughs awkwardly. “Rook, come on now–”

“Avia.”

And Rook will pay for that, he knows. But he also knows Grier’s high and panicky voice when he tries to lie. The other Hunter stills, an iron air around her, crosses her arms and waits.

“Wanna try that again buddy?”

Grier shifts awkwardly, his arm comes up to fidget with his bond. The silence stretches, engulfs them, but ends soon enough.

“Well. Well, sort of. She just said that – she wanted me to make sure – Eve didn’t want to worry you.”

“What?”

“She said you’ve been doing so well in Crucible lately, she didn’t want you to get… Distracted, or remember and then stop–”

“Grier,” Rook warns.

The Warlock only huffs. “Every time we talk about the Hive and Crota you get so uncomfortable Rook, it’s like you wanna leave or tell us to shut up. Eris wanted me to investigate the Hellmouth, but Eve didn’t want me to tell you because of – well, because she said you’d worry about me getting corrupted, or something, she said it might remind you of–”

“Don’t – don’t, _Grier!_ ”

His voice, somehow, reverberates around them. Avia’s head whips between the two, her arms unfurled but weirdly outstretched, like she can’t decide which one of them to comfort.

“Okay. What is going on?” Avia says, calm and sure and Rooks heart _aches_.

Grier gasps, his fingers outstretch themselves with the shock. “Oh, Rook. She doesn’t know oh gods I’m sorry I nearly–”

“What don’t I know?” Avia asks, high and sharp. She looks at him. “Rook?”

Where does he start? Does he even want to? There’s no coming back from this, surely. How would he, how would she ever see him the same way. Warlocks in Crucible, quick and obvious glances from kinderguardians, hushed conversation behind his back when he’s talking to Cayde – that, he can handle. Not this.

“Avia,” Grier says, small. “Can we go?”

* * *

He slinks off, like any good natured Hunter. After they returned to the Tower, Avia went off to give Eris a piece of her mind – “You of all people shouldn’t be encouraging him to jump into the Hellmouth alone!” – with Grier in tow awkwardly trying to defuse the situation. He’d tried to ignore the sting of them leaving so quickly, the rational part of his brain telling him to talk to someone.

He finds Eve by the Wall. An outpost near the Cosmodrome is littered with young Guardians, most of them Titans, carrying boxes and supplies back and forth, talking to civilians or resting. He spots a couple of them cross-legged, similar to the type of meditation his Exo teammate does. One of them spots him as he walks across the muddy ground, dirt splashing up his ankles. They signal Eve.

She sounds happy to see him until she gets closer. It’s only after taking in his appearance, of which he doesn’t try to hide, that she sets the other Guardians on another task and ushers him into an old bunker. ‘Bunker’ being a nice word for three rooms and four walls, a barely there ceiling concealing them from the smog.

He leans against the concrete wall, the cold leaching into his armour, and tells Eve everything. When he’s done, she speaks very slowly, her hands folded in front of her.

“Thank the Traveler, then, that you and Avia got there in time.”

“But what if we hadn’t?” He says, small. “I’m still having a hard time understanding why you told him to go down there.”

Eve’s never been one to bristle, shudder, jump for joy. Her emotions are in her words and her immediate actions and Rook has joked on more than one occasion that she has a fantastic poker face, not just because of her lack of eyes. The Exo is a jovial sphere of calm. He wishes he could feel that.

“There’s something stirring amongst the Hive. Eris asked Grier to investigate the Hellmouth, and we discussed a full scale mission,” Eve steeples her fingers, Rooks head starts to swim. “I certainly didn’t expect him to journey to Crota’s throne world alone and on a whim – I suspect Avia has already had her say on that course of action.”

“Heh,” Rook gets out. “And then some.”

Eve hums. “Grier and Eris… Told me that they could sense a shift in the Hive. I feel it too, Rook. Something dark is on its way. Every night I pray to the Traveler, but. The Light, it’s… Dimming.”

Rooks heard this before, and it’s too damn much, so he tries to focus. “Wait, Grier felt a shift in the Hive?” He asks.

“Oh, Rook,” Eve sighs.

“No – no, don’t do that,” he pushes off of the wall and moves closer. “I’m fine, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Grier – you know he contacted Avia because he said he _heard_ messages coming out of the Hellmouth?”

Eve stills. “You’re worried about him becoming corrupted by the Darkness.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“We’ve been here before, Rook, you–”

“You’re right! We have!” He’s not proud of the way his voice catches. “And Grier came back an absolute mess because we let him run off and play with the Hive!”

“Rook,” Eve says, small. “I meant with you.”

Oh, Rook thinks. And then; Guardian killer.

“You’ve been excelling so much lately, Rook. I didn’t want you to worry about Grier because there’s nothing to worry about. He has you, Avia, a plethora of good, strong Guardians to guide him. It’s different.”

“Is it?” He asks, a whisper. Eve comes forward, places a hand on his shoulder.

“I trust you to keep him safe,” then she chuckles. “Between you and Avia, I don’t worry for Grier. Their connection made him reach out to her – to both of you.” She places her other hand over his chest, still heavy and full. “Trust in yourself, Rook. You’re a diferent man, now. A better one.”

“Eve?” A Titan pops their head around the corner. Rook takes a step back, not unkindly. Even if he still feels numb.

“Yes?”

“The scouts at the outpost said there’s Fallen moving in from the South,” they talk quick, animated. “And we’re finished gathering supplies.”

“Well then,” Eve straightens herself, casts a cursory glance at Rook. “Tell the others to ready themselves for a fight.”

The Guardian runs off, and Rook summons his Ghost.

Before he can escape to orbit, Eve adds; “Find Grier, Rook. Talk to him.”

* * *

Instead, he sits above the crashing shores of Venus, watching the volcanic plumes on the distance rise and rise and evaporate. He takes a deep breath in, shakes, shifts his feet underneath him. The foliage above him, at the top of an impressive incline, mirror the motion.

“You know, they say imitation is the best form of flattery.”

That voice twists his heart. He doesn’t say anything.

Soft footfalls make their way towards him. He wants to turn his head, say something, make a quip or maybe just say something to make her understand that she shouldn’t… That they can’t.

She sits down next to him before he can get any words out. She crosses her legs beneath her. “Although I personally prefer the Cosmodrome to run away and brood.”

He laughs dryly. She looks at him, looks at the helmet in his lap. Then takes hers off and shakes her head with a sigh. “Grier’s really sorry, you know.”

“I know,” Rook says. “I didn’t mean to shout at him.”

“I know,” Avia laughs. Then bows her head, fiddles with something below her. “For what it’s worth, you’re right. I probably should’ve kept a closer eye on him. Or maybe, I don’t know, not tuned out every time he started going on about the Hive.”

Rook raises an eyebrow. “You talked to Eris?”

“I… Yelled at Eris,” she admits. “But. She and Grier have a point, it was Eris who warned us about Crota and made the Vanguard prepared. They say something coming, and we should probably start listening to them.”

Rook screws his eyes shut.

“Listen, Rook,” she starts. “You don’t have to tell me about… Well, whatever Grier nearly spilled. Even though I can see it’s eating you alive.”

“Avia,” he breathes. “Those Guardians, the ones who you thought called you a Guardian killer?”

She nods minutely.

“They meant me.”

She frowns. “Okay?”

He opens his eyes again and tries to ignore how much closer to him she is than he thought.

“It was only a little while after you and Grier met that I was starting to get my life together. Before then, I was. Well, I was an idiot. Hung around with thanatauts, thought death was such a stupid little thing. Guess it was my way of coping, after coming back, after not knowing who or what I was before, you know?”

Avia smiles, there’s something else there that Rook can’t quite see, maybe he isn’t meant to.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I spent a lot of time in Crucible. A lot of time in Crucible. I, uh…” And he remembers it so well, the match ending abruptly. Shaxxs stoic voice rattling around in his head. A broken Ghost by his feet but that feeling of victory still thrumming in his veins, the blood dripping down his gauntlets breaking the trance. “I was ruthless, because of that. Because of them. The more time I spent with them, watching them die and live again, it just made death so insignificant to me. To the point where I never realised – never even thought that–”

He pauses, swallows. Avia is still beside him.

“I killed a Guardian, Avia. I didn’t even – one minute we were fighting, we ran out of ammo and it turned into hand to hand and then, then the next they were dead but I didn’t – I didn’t stop and I–”

“Hey,” Avia says gently, getting up onto her knees. Her hand comes up hesitantly, and she seems to make a decision in a split second because then she’s wiping a tear from his face.

“Uh, ah, dammit–” He laughs awkwardly, Avia only smiles softly. "Sorry, sugar.”

“There he is,” Avia whispers. “If you went too much longer without calling me a dumb nickname, I might have started to worry.”

He laughs wetly. “Won’t make that mistake again, sweetheart.”

She gives him a minute, still on her knees, giving him a look that he hopes isn’t pity.

“After that, no one spoke to me. Eve was the only Guardian who’d still run missions with me, Light Above she was the only Guardian who didn’t act like I was dangerous. Cayde and Shaxx were mad but I… Lost myself, for a long time. I think they came around after they could see how guilty I was, that I wasn’t… That I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to...”

“You… Weren’t trying to be Dregeden Yor?”

He stills, holds his breath. And there it is, no longer comfortably pushed down into the back of his mind. Etching and clawing his way to the front. It’s impossible to count the amount of times _that name_ was thrown in his face in the aftermath. The way Guardians looked at him as if he was no different, like they expected him to turn into the same kind of monster. Always on their guard, always waiting for an excuse.

“Yeah.”

“But?” She adds softly.

“I think… I don’t know, sugar. I don’t think I’m _nothing_ like him, either.”

Avia scoffs.

Rook can’t help the way his head swivels so quickly to her, confusion clearly evident on his face. She’s smiling slightly, but it drops a little at his expression.

“You’re not him, Rook,” she holds up a hand when he goes to interrupt. “Yor was a monster, a Light stealer. If half the Guardians who acted like you were dangerous actually read into him, they’d know that he was corrupted way before he killed in the Crucible. You made a mistake, and,” her voice takes on an angered tilt. “And if the Vanguard were more open to talking about exiled Guardians, maybe it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

“But that’s the thing,” he says, looking at her, really looking. “The more I think about it… The more I’m not so sure how much of an accident it was.”

She opens her mouth but shuts it quickly. He can see the gears turning in her head, ever turning, but he knows she won’t have something to say. This is it, as far as he’s concerned. So he continues. “The more Grier goes off to play with the Hive, every time Eve mentions the Darkness getting stronger, it just makes me think about what I did, why I did it. It wasn’t an accident, I can’t – I can’t say that the Darkness overcame me or anything like that. I don’t have an excuse Avia. I just. I killed someone.”

She thins her lips, looks at him like he’s a puzzle to be solved and, well. At least it’s not pity, disgust, every other expression he’s been on the receiving end of.

“But you didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not the point.”

“No,” she laughs softly and his head and his heart have never been more confused. “You’re right. But it’s true.”

She looks him up and down, an inquisitive gaze that settles on his hand, resting on his knee. Both her hands plant themselves on top of it, a lilac thumb brushing back and forth gently over a tan ring finger. It alights his skin, skitters and shakes his self.

“You feel so much guilt, Rook. You carry it so heavily. Fearing corruption because of the things you’ve done, I can – I can understand that. Which means I know that there’s nothing I can say to change your mind, to make the things you’ve done in the past hurt less. But, can I just say? You’re a good man. You’re a better person. And you’re not a monster.”

His throat closes up, tears threatening to spill once more and he laughs wetly.

“Guess I’ll take your word for it, sugar.”

“And, if you’re really that worried about corruption, I promise – from the bottom of my heart – that I will chain you up and kick you into the deepest bunker I can find in Old Russia if that happens. Which it won’t.”

That pulls a genuine laugh from him.

“You’d go through that much trouble, just for little ol’ me?”

He phrases it with mirth, as though he doesn’t mean it. But the man in his head can’t help but shake in fear at the prospect of Avia taking him down. So he asks, and hopes.

She laughs, an exhale, and smiles so bright.

“Don’t read too much into that,” is her answer.

 _Easier said than done_ , he thinks.

“Can _I_ just say?” He adds, enjoying the warmth of her hands on his, not thinking about the prospect of them leaving. "You have terrible taste in men, sugar.”

Her breath catches, one hand pulling her hair behind her ear whilst the other stays with him. “Oh, the worst.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on the next chapter of Good Intentions next! Let's hope it doesn't take me as long aha.


End file.
